


The Crimson Coeurl

by Ode_to_Eorzea



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Arenvald Lentinus/Female WoL, F/M, Final Fantasy XIV: A Realm Reborn, Miqo’te Warrior of Light, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-13
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-06-09 17:29:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 16,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15272619
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ode_to_Eorzea/pseuds/Ode_to_Eorzea
Summary: The beginning of an adventure for young J’abari Tau. She begins her journey to learn more of the home nation she’s never known and of Eorzea at large. As she grows, she comes to see the world through eyes beyond her family’s stories, and her place in it at large.This series will be concurrent with my other series, Ode to Eorzea. Their paths diverge a bit, and this series will stray a bit for the MSQ, but still keeps to the timeline. Uses some direct dialogue from the game.





	1. Invitations

**Author's Note:**

> A young adventure receives a series ofprestigious invitations.

“I know! Why don’t you come to Ul’dah,” Yda cheerfully suggests. “Our order, The Scions of the Seventh Dawn, is head quartered there! Well, not in Ul’dah but nearby in-”

“Gods’ sakes, Yda!” Papalymo scolds. “Our organization can hardly operate effectively if you see fit to run your mouth about it at every opportunity! And at the Aetheryte Plaza, no less! Is there nothing but muscle in that skull of yours?”

“But J’abari’s special,” she argues, flinging her arms animatedly. “We might be able to use her help dealing with the primal threat!”

“Primals,” J’abari questions. Her crimson eyes flicker in bewilderment between the two, wondering how they thought she had any power capable of being useful against such foes. “I...I can’t really fight,” she stammers. “I’ve been studying Conjury but only for a short while. Brother Sumi says I’m doing very well, but I’m not confident enough to...I, I don’t know how much help I would be.”

“Oh don’t you worry about that,” Yda assures her, smiling. “From what I’ve seen of it, I think you’re a natural! Even Papalymo would have to admit that.”

The spectacled Lalafell eyes the young Miqo’te, surrendering to Yda’s uncharacteristically sound logic with a sigh. “Well you do have a talent for aether manipulation, along with a near ungodly reservoir of aether. I dare say you could make a fine Thaumaturge if you put your mind to it.”

“Besides, it’s not just your fighting abilities, but your special gift that we need!”

“My...?”

“Again, Yda,” the snarky Lalafell interjects. “You’ve blabbered more than enough already. We must leave something for the Antecedent to talk about.” Before Yda can protest, Papalymo has already directed his attention to J’abari. “You have already been granted permission to use the airship by the Elder Seedseer, yes?”

She confirms his question with a nod, recalling the series of events that prompted such a privilege. That she had achieved so much was far beyond her expectations for her new life as an adventurer. She’d merely left her home on The Pearl to see the world beyond what she was told of it. Though she did feel a twinge if desire to learn about her ‘homeland’. The home she never knew yet was expected to be proud of.

“Then hasten your way to Ul’dah,” Papalymo’s voice interrupts her thoughts . “Once you arrive, make your way to the Quicksand. It is the home of the Adventurer’s Guild in the city. We will leave instructions with the proprietress Momodi to have you directed to our headquarters. I will handle the necessary arrangements, so just pack your things and be ready. All should be taken care of for a departure on the morrow.”

“We’ll be waiting for you there!” Yda says with a cheer. “Well, maybe not in Ul’dah, because our order is-”

“ _Enough_ , Yda!”

The duo continue their bickering as they disappear down the hill, J’abari’s eyes following them as they go. Assured they were gone, she follows in the same direction and enters the dimly lit Carline Canopy. Mother Miounne calls her over to inform her of the arrangements Yda and Papalymo made, congratulating her on the honor of being invited into such an organization. Still perplexed by the rapid pace of events, J’abari just smiles pleasantly, offering customary words of gratitude before excusing herself to her room. 

She packs her meager belongings into her sack, focusing her racing thoughts long enough to carefully store her hammer and grinding wheel. Her physical trials made her decent coin, but it was her skill at jewelry making that truly supported her livelihood. Once finished she plops onto her bed with a heavy sigh, staring out at the setting sun with a furrowed brow. 

“My ‘gift’? Does it have to do with this,” she asks herself, pulling the blue crystal from her bag. She had figured it was just a relic left behind by the disturbed forest creatures she defeated. But simply reaching for it caused her to collapse, her dream during the short time she was unconscious of a towering crystal. No, the Crystal. Hydaelyn, the planet itself. Maybe it’s the fact that she had the vision that led Papalymo and Yda to take such an interest in her. 

“So much for Ala Mhigo,” J’abari sighs, returning the shard back to its place. “But maybe it’s for the best. This is my journey, after all.” She orders a chamomile tea to calm her thoughts then heads to bed, wanting to be properly rested before her flight in the morning. 

 

The air becomes increasingly arid as the landscape changes from the dank swamp of the South Shroud to the rolling desert of Thanalan. J’abari takes in a large breath, briefly imagining the difference between the sands of Thanalan and Gyr Abania before scolding herself for the thoughts. 

“Not everything is about Ala Mhigo,” she mutters to herself as she walks to airship’s edge. She peers over the rail at the vast, dusty ground beneath her. Following the airship’s course with her eyes, the sight before her causes her mouth to gape.

Jewel of the desert did not give the towering city justice. Pointed pillars rose from the domes as if to challenge the will of the heavens. And the colossal wall encompassing the city looked intimidating enough to halt any challenge of conquer; a stark contrast from the open huts of Gridania. A strong, proud and wealthy nation. It was little wonder that so many refugees came here.

The airship docks at the landing, and J’abari wastes no time asking for directions to the Adventurer’s Guild per Papalymo’s instructions. The city is well known for its wily merchants, eager to strip an unawares traveller of their coin. And she wanted to avoid becoming a victim. Getting directions from the airship ticketer, she heads out into the beating sun, admiring the elegant mason work decorating the city. 

She comes to the Quicksand, rising up the stairs and taking in the overwhelming bustle of dining and chatter in the tavern. The diversity was almost jarring; even greater than in the Carline Canopy, and like a different world from the small island she grew up on. Realizing everyone was too entrenched in their affairs to pay her any mind, she resolved to find Momodi on her own. Walking around the outer rim, her half crescent journey puts her face to face with a red-headed Lalafell behind the counter. Finishing business with the current client with her, the woman turns to J’abari with a knowing smile. 

“J’abari Tau I take it,” she greets. “Welcome to the Quicksand, my dear! My name’s Momodi, and I’d love to help ye get acquainted, but I’m afraid ye’re a busy little lady! First invited by the Scions, now getting personal summons from the general o’ the bloody Immortal Flames himself!”

“I- hello,” J’abari says with a quick bow. “Thank you for meeting me. But, I’m not aware of any summons besides from the Scions. The Flame General, do you mean Raubahn Aldynn?”

“The one and only! By the Twelve, just what kind of lucky Miqo’te are ye!? Well, unfortunately no rest for ye after the long journey. Looks like yer escort’s here already, so off ye go.”

A man in a yellow coat comes and greets her with a well-practiced salute, exchanging words with Momodi before asking J’abari to come with him. She gives an unsure glance back to the woman, and receives a heartening nod in return, and heads out of the tavern. 

She makes sure to follow close behind the soldier’s back as he maneuvers a path through the busy streets, him never losing sight of the girl as he makes friendly conversation. 

“May I ask how you came to know the Flame General?” He inquires while glaring at a oncoming merchant. The gaze and uniform were enough to send the turbaned man walking back the way he came. “As soon as he received the letter from the Elder Seedseerer of your coming, General Aldynn seemed most eager to ensure that you had an audience with him.”

 

“Oh...I,” she pauses, wondering how best to answer. It was an innocent enough inquiry, and well deserved. And yet....

“I’m not quite sure myself,” she lies. “Of course I know of him. I’m sure there are few alive who don’t know the tale of the Bull of Ala Mhigo. But as for why he would want words with me, honored as I am, is a question I’d like to know the answer to myself.”

“Well you shall learn soon enough,” he smiles kindly, leading the way into the cool halls of the Steps of Nald. “The General does not make summons like this lightly. There must be something truly special about you.” She stares at her escort’s back, guilt welling in her throat. She knew well why the Flame General wanted to meet her.

Taken through a decorated corridor, she’s led into a wide hall with a large table in the center. Her escort gives a final salute and excuses himself, leaving J’abari alone in the glamorous room. She observes the detail work of the chairs encircling the table, admiring the expert placement of priceless jewels along the backs and arms. How many citizens knew that just one of these seats could afford food and housing for a family of refugees for moons...

The echo of a door and footsteps bring her to attention. A giant man strides in, the clang of his swords and armor filling the silence. Without introduction she knew exactly who was coming her way. A dark face etched in scars and the unmistakable build of an Ala Mhigan highlander. The Bull of Ala Mhigo, the hero of her people, walked toward her with an ever growing grin on his face.

“As I thought,” he greets, booming voice filling the room. “My apologies for calling on you as soon as you arrived, but I wanted to confirm my suspicions before you set off. Hair as gold as the sand, and eyes as crimson as the blood spilled upon it. Aye, you’re J’Tau’s child, there’s no doubt about it!”

_That’s quite an analogy,_ she cringes, but smiles politely none the less. “General Aldynn, it’s an honor to meet you. My name is J’abari, daughter of J’tau. My father never tired of telling me stories of your triumphs together-and I never tired of listening to them.”

“Ha, did he now! The old Jackal should talk about himself more! He might’ve taken out the Mad King’s entire army himself if we had let him! How is the old devil?”

“Well as usual, last time I received a letter from home,” she tells him. “But I’m sure he’ll be delighted to learn that I met you! He speaks fondly about his days back...home. I know he misses them dearly.”

“Well, none can blame him for leaving,” Raubahn says, expression darkening. “The Mad King threatened his entire tribe, and would’ve gone through with its genocide had he not gone. Thankfully you were all able to escape. Though it came at a great cost...”

She looks to him sympathetically. “Did you lose someone helping my clan escape?”

“What,” the general asks surprised. He studies the confusion in her eyes for a moment, then averts his gaze to scratch his head as he thinks on his next words. “There were a number of good men that we lost that day, nothing more, girl. And you...you’re J’tau’s youngest and last child I take it? Then...I hope you wear your name with honor and pride.”

“I, I will, General,” she says, puzzled by the sudden sentiment. “And I’ll send your regards to my father too.”

“Bah, no need for that,” Raubahn smiles. “I’ve a mind to write the old Jackal myself, it’s been so long since we’ve spoken. Besides, you’re to meet with the Scions, so you’d best be on your way. It’s a great honor to be invited to their order, and I’m sure your duties will bring you back to Uldah soon, and we can talk more then. There are duties I must attend to myself. I’ve another escort ready to take you to the chocobo porter. So get on your way, and make us all proud, Little Tau.”

“Thank you General,” she bows. “I shall.” Exchanging final words, he leaves the way he came as another soldier arrives to guide her to her next destination. As before light pleasantries are exchanged as they weave their way through the crowded streets. It’s only after she’s safely mounted on her bird and outside the gates of the city that her pleasant smile melts away into an exasperated sigh.

“Little Tau...what was the point of naming me J’abari.” Striking the sides of her mount with more force than intended, she yelps as the bird takes off with a sprint to the west.

 

The chocobo guides her to her destination flawlessly despite the aggressive start to their journey. They arrive in Vesper Bay with the setting sun glowing behind a towering statue of a Lalafell decorating the square. Following Momodi’s instructions, she heads to the building closest to the port. She enters the cool building, and turns to see a Lalafell garbed in purple and lilac.

“Good evening,” the receptionist greets courteously. “If you were not aware, this is private property. Unless you have pertinent business, I’m afraid I must ask you to-”

“Um, I was invited by Yda and Papalymo. My name is J’abari Tau.”

“Yda and Papalymo!? I see, give me a moment to check check. J’abari, J’abari...there you are!”

She raises her head from the ledger with a smile and a polite curtesy. 

“I bid you welcome to the Waking Sands, headquarters of the Scions of the Seventh Dawn! My name is Tataru, and I look forward to working with you!” 

J’abari returns the welcome with a polite bow. “The Antecedent and our other guest awaits you downstairs in the solar. You may enter whenever you’re ready.”

Other guest? Thinking better not to delay, J’abari gives her thanks and follows the stairs in the corner down to the cellar. The cool stone surrounding her does little to chill the nervous heat spreading through her body.

What would the other Scions be like? Were they all like Yda and Papalymo, like a dodo and it’s shepherd, a constant comical back and forth? Were they kind, serious, strict? How dangerous are the missions they take on? Who was this other guest? Would they be partners? Can they fight? The questions raced through her mind without pause as she continued down the hallway. It’s only when she looks through the door to her left that they cease. 

Sitting a chair, a cup in his hands, is a hyur man who at a glance appeared about her age. Even from a distance his large girth marked him as a highlander. More distracting than the white x painted across his face was how his gaze bore into J’abari even from so far. She jumps before resuming at a quickened pace. 

It takes two more sets of doors before she reaches her destination. The large room was sparsely decorated. It contained a corner of books, a few seating options, and more noticeably a small crowd.

“Ah, our other guest,” a woman from behind the heavy wooden desk greets. “Well met, J’abari. We’ve been expecting you. Please come forward. No need to be shy!”

J’abari nods, still hesitant. But seeing the enthusiastic waves of Yda and Papalymo urging her forward relieves some of the weight from her legs, and she walks forward. She steals quick glances at the crowd around her. A hooded Elezen browsing a bookshelf in the corner. To the left, Yda and Papalymo. To the right, a handsome, fair-skinned Hyur and white haired Miqo’te. And in front of the desk, the other guest. Her eyes stop. 

She is tall for a Miqo’te, lean and strong. Jet black locks fade into golden yellow at the tips where they rest on her back. J’abari could barely take her gaze away from striking blue of her eyes to notice the small but deep cut across her nose, and amused grin that her lips were curled into. Her stance, confident. Her eyes, alert. Her aura, charismatic. _Like my father...she’s a fighter._

“I got something on my face, ye,” the Miqo’te teases, tapping a finger on her scarred nose. 

“S-sorry! That was rude of me,” J’abari stutters, taken aback by the unfamiliar accent and quick familiarity of her tone.

“Fret not. I too could barely take my eyes off her upon first glance,” the man speaks. “‘Twas only when you yourself arrived that they were drawn away, fair lady.”

“And he begins before even giving his name,” the other Miqo’te sighs, the others nodding and laughing in agreement. 

“As unsurprising as it is,” the blonde woman smiles before turning back to the two in front of her. “But we should properly introduce ourselves. My name is Minfilia, and I lead the brave souls before you, known as the Scions of the Seventh Dawn. Yda and Papalymo have done naught but sing praises about your deeds in Gridania.” The pair nod their heads in fervent approval, prompting the young Miqo’te to tug at a strand of her hair.

“N’ailah too has done much good since her arrival in Eorzea,” Minfilia continues, gesturing to the woman standing before her. “Aiding the Maelstrom in Limsa Lominsa in stopping a series of serial kidnappings in service of the primal Leviathan.”

“Kidnappings?!” The young girl gasps. She turns to stare at her fellow recruit, who merely offers a humble shrug and another charming smile at the praise. 

“All in a day’s work, was it?” The white haired Miqo’te smirks. They all have a laugh before Minfilia steers the conversation back on course.

“I believe you have already been apprised that we would like your assistance in staying the primal threat, yet you have not been told why. I believe I can provide some answers for you. Have you ever felt like your mind has left your body?”

“Yes,” J’abari says quietly. “After meeting Yda and Papalymo, we fought some corrupted forest creatures. Then there was this crystal, and I picked it up then...”

“Passed our like a pirate after a slog, ye,” N’ailah finishes for her.

“Um, yes?” 

“Then allow me to explain in more detail,” Minfilia adds, blue eyes smiling kindly. Her explanation of the power they share and their organization’s purpose make J’abari’s heart stop a beat. The power to help people, to safeguard the realm. Not for fame, or in the name of kin or country; just fighting for the greater good.

J’abari didn’t hesitate when the Scions asked her to continue aiding them. And N’ailah gave her casual consent as well. Plainly pleased with their responses, the Antecedent wastes no time in assigning tasks to the two newest members. J’abari was to return to Gridania and aid in negotiations with the Sylphs. N’ailah would remain in Thanalan and work with Thancred in combating the Amalj’aa.

“I must say, my lady,” Thancred begins as he escorts N’ailah out the doors. “I am eagerly anticipating our partnership. Your deeds aside, working with a beautiful woman like yourself will be a welcome change of pace from the ever loyal, but not nearly so alluring Immortal Flames.”

“Just try not to stare too much, ye. Don’t need you getting distracted on the job.” She turns to smile at J’abari with a quick wave before she strides out of the Solar. Thancred follows effortlessly beside her, chattering away about their mission. J’abari watches her back with admiration. 

“Looks like we get to go back to Gridania!” Yda’s voice sounds next to her. “But before that, I think you should meet some of the other Scions.”

“Of course, take all the time you need,” Papalymo sneers. “It’s not like we need to hurry to Gridania to prevent the potential summoning of a primal. Nothing of the sort.”

“It’ll only be a minute!” Yda exclaims. “Ignore the grumpy one, J’abari. Follow me!”

“She helped stopped kidnappings,” J’abari asks Yda as they turn down the hall. “N’ailah, I mean. That’s incredible.”

“Yeah, she’s quite a fighter, from Y’shtola’s stories,” Yda replies. “I heard the day she arrived in Eorzea, she joined some Limsan secret organization or what not, and got put on a case straight away! She’s a complete mystery too. No one knows where she’s from; nowhere in Eorzea with her odd accent. And all she ever tells people is that she’s ‘from far to the south’.”

“Maybe because she doesn’t want loudmouths talking about her personal matters at every chance,” Papalymo chides. “Come come, let’s do your introductions then be off!”

Amid Yda’s complaints they enter the room J’abari had previously passed. Yda gives names to faces as they make their rounds. She stops at a trio formed of an Elezen woman, a Miqo’te male squatting on a crate, and the young highlander man with a painted face. His gaze still intense on her, J’abari escapes by turning her head, tugging on a strand of her hair.

“Everyone, this is J’abari Tau, our newest Scion,” Yda introduces. “A’aba and Aulie have been members for a while, and Arenvald here just joined recently too. He’s got the Echo, the just like you!”

“Truly,” J’abari asks, surprised. She braves his gaze to look into his eyes, a glint of recollection forming in their hazel.

“Aye,” he answers in an all-too familiar accent. “I saw the dream. And you - Tau, was it? You’re not related to J’tau, are you?”

“The Jackal of Ala Ghiri!?” Yda exclaims. “Gods, how’d I not realize! J’abari, you never mentioned you’re from Ala Mhigo!”

“I-I didn’t think it was important. I wasn’t born there actually. Our clan moved to Pearl Island before-”

“You mean fled, don’t you ‘Little Tau’?”

She freezes and turns to gape at the boy looking at her with cold eyes. In an instant she feels heat rising to her face again. And the words fly from her mouth before she can calm herself down.

“My _name_ is J’abari,” she snaps. “And I won’t stand here and let you slander my father’s name! Regardless of what you want to call it, I know why my father left: to save his-my family. The Mad King threatened to kill everyone, down to the last child. So my father did what he thought was best to save our lives. You might call him a coward for it, but I don’t. And I never will.”

“Kitty’s claws came out at ye, boy,” A’aba snickers from his perch. 

“Sorry,” Arenvald mumbles in apology. “He likely did the right thing, choosing life over glorious death. A hero like that, no wonder his daughter was among one of the chosen. But me, a filthy Ala Mhigan orphan who had to resort to banditry just to eat. Some fine hero I’ll make.”

“Enough! I’m not here in my father’s name, or to win glory for Ala Mhigo. I’m here because it’s what I want to do, regardless of my name or lineage. The same goes for you too! Aye, maybe you are just some Ala Mhigan orphan who had to do terrible things just to survive. But you have a gift, and you were asked to help for a reason. So stop wallowing in your past and become what you want to be now! Anyone can be far more than where they’ve come from. That’s the truth I believe, anyway...”

The last words roll quietly off her tongue as the embarrassment finally triumphs over her temper. She can feel her cheeks burning hotter under the room’s gaze, compounded by a snort from Arenvald. 

“That so,” he chuckles. He raises his face to smile at her. “Aye, maybe you’re right. Not sure what kind of hero I’ll make, but I’ll give a try.”

“Good,” she beams. “Then I’ll help you along the way.”

“After we return from Gridania,” Papalymo reminds her. “You only just became a Scion today, I remind you. Best to start with solving the realm’s problems one at a time. So let us hurry and deal with the potential primal threat so you can quickly return to the pressing task of helping young Arenvald here find himself.”

Laughter echoes off the walls at the two young Scions’ expense as the Lalafell busies J’abari and Yda out of the room. She takes a final glance at Arenvald and receives a quick wave. She returns the gesture before following her guides out of the Waking Sands, a newfound eagerness to return filling her thoughts.


	2. Serendipitous

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J’abari returns from her mission, and earns a break. Deciding to take a break, she decides to hone her jewelry making craft; and asks Arenvald to come to Ul’dah with her for “protection” (read: get to know him better). They take on some extra missions for Serendipity as well, and she gets to see Arenvald in action. When they return to the Waking Sands, she mentions this to Minfilia, who had been waiting for the opportune moment to assign him his first mission anyway.

It felt strange to say she was back home upon her arrival at the Waking Sands. And yet, what else could she call the feeling when she arrived?

The warmth with which Tataru welcomed them as she, Yda and Papalymo walked through the heavy door. Her relentless questioning of their mission, what sylphs were like, the battles they fought. She seemed to know very little about the workings of the senior members, but did her best to understand. 

And the calming kindness with which Minfilia greeted her, being sure to first check about her health before the mission. Her relief was likely due to the fact that, as J’abari was shocked to learn, N’ailah’s mission had gone awry. Her senior recruit was forced to face a primal alone; and though she won, it seemed to have put Minfilia at worry about her other new Scion. But all was well, and she promised a brief respite before sending J’abari on her next mission.

Being so close to her clan in that small island, being on her own in this open, new land had been daunting for the young Miqo’te. But the Scions had welcomed her as one of their own; and she finally felt like she had found a surrogate family in this land full of strangers. 

Though J’abari recognized the wisdom in the suggestion of rest, there were things she had to do first. Papalymo’s suggestion that she could potentially practice Thaumaturgy still rang in her ears. As well as she likes conjury, the thought of having a more offensive arsenal of magic at her disposal was not to be discarded. Plus it would be wise to improve her jewelry making and learn more about the techniques and desired styles more prevalent in Eorzea. 

It seemed a trip to Ul’dah was in order. Raubahn Aldyyn had also wanted to speak more with her, so it might be worth inquiring about his availability. 

But as she walks down the hall, feeling the cool breeze coming from the storage room, she stops a moment. She had made a promise, and though Papalymo had said in jest that she could work on it after their return, she took his words to heart. 

A’aba is the first to notice her enter, tilting his head back to smirk at the girl before announcing her coming to his other two companions. Aulie looks to the girl with her customary tranquility.

And Arenvald - the boy near gives himself whiplash flailing out of his chair as he rises to greet her. Seeing her unharmed, his shoulders visibly drop and a grin begins to spread over his face. It was contagious, as one began to spread over hers as well. A’aba snickers as she comes up to the trio, and a light pink dusts the boy’s face.

“Welcome back,” he greets casually, coughing away the smile. “How was it? Get to do any primal slaying?”

“No, thank the Twelve!” She laughs. She pauses a moment, her sharp ears picking up an odd sound coming from the boy’s throat. Must have been another cough.

“We were able to maintain peace with the sylphs after helping them find their elder,” she explains. “Thanks to that, we were able to stay any potential summoning, for now. Don’t look so disappointed! It’s for the best; I’m not N’ailah, you know.”

“Heard about that already, did you? Aye, I know the feeling. Aulie and A’aba have been giving me a lot of training, but sometimes I feel like it’ll never be enough. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to fight a primal like N’ailah did.”

“You’ll get there some day,” she reassures him. “Just keep training.” He nods and stares, eyes moving to the smile gracing her lips. His mouth parts slowly and he looks like he’s about to speak. 

“I’m here too, by the way. Still alive, me and Aulie, thanks for asking.” The voice came from A’aba, stretching his hand between the two and flailing his arm to get attention. They all laugh at his interruption and J’abari blushes a twinge. She hadn’t realized how engrossed in conversation she had been with her fellow Echo recipient. 

The group exchanges insights into their activities while they were separated. The trio had spent most of their days training. Arenvald was strong but inexperienced, and needed the guidance of his senior Scions to help him prepare for the battles ahead. Though he still felt uncertain about his proficiency, he showed off his battered shield and dull blade with pride. And J’abari got an idea. 

“Have you stopped by the Gladiator’s Guild in Ul’dah?” J’abari asks. He shakes his no, hazel eyes locked on to her. She feels the heat rise in her face again, but rambles out her suggestion before her courage deserts her. “Then why don’t you come with me? I was thinking about doing some training of my own. In Ul’dah, I mean. I want to learn more about jewelry making, and there’s the Thaumaturge’s Guild as well, because Papalymo suggested I study thaumaturgy as well. But that’s boring for you, so...we could stop at the Gladiator’s Guild too, if you like.”

“You sure you just don’t want a tough-looking body guard?” He teases with a smirk. “Ah, it was joke. Thank you, but...it’s a nice offer, but I don’t think I can leave just yet.”

“Go, Arenvald,” Aulie’s gentle voice chimes in. “You’ve trained hard, and it’s time for a break. And J’abari’s right; lessons from professionals trained in your art would benefit you more than the minimal guidance A’aba and I can offer. It won’t take you too long, and you’re only a few malms away.”

“What she said,” A’aba adds for good measure. “And no running off on a romantic adventure, you hear?”

He looks at his mentors uncertainly before turning back to J’abari, who is twirling a strand of hair in anticipation. Sighing, he nods and goes to get his things. And within a bell they’re mounted on chocobos and riding east to the jewel of the desert.

 

“Mi- Serendipity, it’s finished,” J’abari sighs, pleased with her work. “One bronze ring.”  
She hands over the piece to the lilac-haired woman, who takes it her hands. She tests the weight with a smile, then places it on the table. 

“This is lovely, J’abari,” Serendipity praises. “Though the design is a bit...simple for the Ul’dahn tastes.”

“I see,” the young girl smiles meekly. “We made our accessories for trappers on The Pearl. Practicality was a bit more important than style. But I’ll be sure to practice refining my touch. I won’t sell anything otherwise.”

The young guildmaster beams at her new pupil. “I love that enthusiasm, J’abari! And it’s not like high class clients will be ordering jewelry made of bronze, but that you made something so nice out of such a basic material is to be admired. The bronze shines like a more precious metal, but the utility cannot be denied. Truly, this is a very nice sample.”

“NiCe SaMpLe? It LoOkS lIkE iT wAs MaDe By A cObLyN.”

“Gigi!” Serendipity scolds. “Please ignore him, J’abari, you did well for your first piece. Keep practicing and stopping by so I can evaluate your work. And take this! Your tools seems a bit worn. And I won’t have it said that I don’t take care of my new pupils!”

“Thank you,” the Miqo’te bows, accepting the new hammer as an initiation gift. She steps out to see the sun falling lower. Her trial with Serendipity took more time than she had intended. She takes a moment to gather her thoughts, finding a seat on the edge of the fountain at the eloquently named Gold Court, closing her eyes to the calming sound of the falling water. 

Deciding she couldn’t leave Arenvald to wander the city without her, she rises with a stretch and heads in the direction of the Gladiator’s Guild. They could decide their next destinations together. Guided by the smell of blood and sweat and the sound of clashing metal, she heads into the room and turns to the receptionist to inquire about Arenvald. Following the finger with her eyes, she turns to see her companion drenched in sweat, standing in a battle stance. A blonde highlander woman circles him slowly while throwing out instructions.

J’abari grins as the woman grabs Arenvald’s heavy arm and forces it into proper stance with ease. He’s stiff as a board, but concentrating on digesting the advice to the best of his abilities, eager to learn as much as possible during the quick lesson. Finishing her lesson with a firm pat on his back, she hands him a sword and shield. Arenvald expresses his gratitude before hustling over to his companion, face flushed and breath heavy.

“It looks like you had a productive lesson!” Noticing his soaked clothing, J’abari hands him a cloth to wipe his brow.

“Aye,” he huffs, taking the cloth to his forehead. “They work you hard, and this was less than half of what they teach real fighters. Looks like I’ve still got a ways to go yet.”

“In time. Anyway, we should discuss what to do next. I spent more time at the Goldsmith’s Guild than intended, so I’m planning on going to the Thaumaturge’s Guild now. You can wait for me at the Quicksand and rest, if you like.”

He thinks on it for a minute as he finishes catching his breath. “I’ll come with you. I’m supposed to be your body guard after all, right?” 

“Then guard me well, ser gladiator,” she teases, bowing with mock formality. A large hand on her shoulder gently sends her in the door with a gentle push. 

They walk side by side, desert sun bearing down on them less violently as it drops behind the buildings. J’abari listens with intent as Arenvald recounts the bounty of knowledge he obtained during his brief lesson. His enthusiasm, unclouded by embarrassment or self-consciousness keeps her eyes locked on him. The way he practices the swings he learned, repeating the words of his instructor. The smile doesn’t leave her face until they walk into the towering double doors.

Introductions and paper work done, her new teachers each give her the name of a book for recommended reading. The paper in her hand has the scribblings of the tomes, and she starts to make her way over to one of the shelves.

“Arenvald,” she calls. “Can you help me find _Thaumaturgy: The Yawning Abyss_?”

“Uh, a-aye, gimme a sec,” he replies. J’abari doesn’t notice his stuttering response as she focuses on browsing the tomes, utterly fascinated. That such a boon of literature had been kept here was hard to comprehend, with the way her mother had to twist arms to get their books delivered to their small island. 

Satisfied with her haul, she hugs the books close to her chest. It’s then she realizes Arenvald hasn’t returned with her request. Scanning the dark halls, she sees him looking over a bookshelf on the opposite side. Her footsteps echo throughout the large, empty room. She comes up behind him, giving a gentle tap on his arm and jumping as he does. 

“Sorry,” she giggles. “Did you find it?”

“I, uh...no, sorry,” he mumbles, not meeting her gaze. She looks at him questioning eyes, enough that he took a quick glance her way before finally speaking. “Sorry...do you know what color it is?”

“Color,” she questions quietly, about to ask why before the truth hits her. _Oh no, he can’t..._

“I, um,” she struggles to find the words. She didn’t want to embarrass him, but if he didn’t know his letters then... “I’m not sure myself. Just...how about you take these to the receptionist for me? I’ll take another look for it.”

“It’s not that I don’t know how,” he says in an outburst, swiping the books from her arms with force. “I just...didn’t have much time to study! Eating was more important than letters where I grew up.”

“I didn’t say anything! It’s fine...I understand, really I do.” She looks around the open hall, suddenly noticing the resounding echos their bickering had caused. The two stand in awkward silence, avoiding the eyes of curious onlookers.

“How about you go to the markets, and pick me up some ores? I’ll need them for some goldsmith practice I plan to do. Then meet me at the Quicksand.”

“Fine,” he sighs. “J’abari, I’m sorry, I should’ve-”

“No apologizing,” she cuts him off. “We all have things we need to work on. It’s a natural part of life. Now, off with you, and I’ll see you in a couple bells!”

Arenvald shuffles out of the double doors, dragging his feet in embarrassment. Once he’s gone, J’abari quickly tracks down her last book and heads to the receptionist, completing the required paperwork to register to the guild and borrow the books. 

“Also,” she asks once everything’s done. “Is there a library anywhere?”

 

Errands finished, J’abari labors her haul back to the Quicksand, scanning the tavern till she finds Arenvald slumped at a table by himself. It seemed like the event at the Thaumaturge’s Guild still had him down; and luckily she had a solution. She hurries over to the table, sounding his name then dropping her goods on the table with a heavy sigh. 

“Find what you were looking for?” He asks. 

“Yes!” She answers without looking at him, shuffling through the contents. “And I have something-well, a few things-for you, too. Give me your hand.”

Arenvald doesn’t say anything as he rises to peer into the sack on the table. His outstretched hand drops suddenly under the weight of cool glass. A jar of black ink. It’s soon followed by rolls of parchment, and a quill. He turns to gape at his companion, whose red eyes smile back at him warmly.

“What’s all this then,” he exclaims, mouth widening even further as the Miqo’te holds up a book to her stretched grin. 

“We’re going to work on your letters,” she explains cheerfully. “You really need to be able to read, so that you don’t get taken advantage of. And if you’re wondering who shall instruct you, know that you’re looking at your new teacher. I did promise to help you become the hero you so want to be. Think of this as the first step!”

 

“Oh, bugger me,” he says, shoulders dropping as J’abari laughs at his discontent.

“No buggering; just learning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s never really explained how prevalent literacy is in Eorzea. But given the circumstances of his birth (born under occupation, his relationship with his mother), I wouldn’t be surprised if he barely knew how to read, or never learned at all. It’s not a skill you just pick up on the streets either. But it’s also hard to imagine the Scions just letting him remain illiterate. Maybe A’aba and Aulie helped teach him when he arrived, who knows.


	3. Giving Up is Death

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arenvald has a loss of confidence with his studies.

Arenvald wasn’t sure if it was the laughter or the pressure of a clothed finger on his cheek that woke him. Vaguely curious of the source, he lifts his heavy head and begins blinking open his weary eyes. 

His vision is immediately filled with turquoise. _The ocean? I must still be dreaming...but then who’s laughing?_ A few more bats of his eyelids reveals no ocean, only a pair of eyes framing a scarred nose- none other than N’ailah; the finger poking his face and the laughter being hers as well. 

He sounds a strangled cry as he flies to a seated position, the back of his chair catching him before he flew out of it. He flings his head wildly and takes in the sights around him. The slightly damp air, the dull brown walls, the lightness of the quill in his hands, and the near maniacal cackling of the Miqo’te who woke him echoing throughout the empty room-the Waking Sands. 

Everyone was either off on missions or getting some fresh air. It was unseasonably cool outside, and many of the regular occupants were taking advantage of it. Only Arenvald stayed behind to continue his studying. Exactly where he was supposed to be; doing exactly what he wasn’t supposed to be doing.

“Morning, sleepyhead!”

“Seven hells, you nearly stopped my heart, N’ailah! Did you really need to do that?”

She shrugs as her laughter fades into a smile. “Didn’t want your teacher getting mad at you for sleeping, ye? You should be thanking me!”

Arenvald sighs as he fights back a yawn, knowing what she said to be true. J’abari was a great teacher, patient and kind. And strict. She’d barely gave him a moment to forget anything he learned in the past few weeks since they began their lessons. And though he wasn’t sure if he felt it, she said he’d been improving.

And she did it all while managing her own load of tasks. Minfilia kept her busy with missions and research. On top of that, she had begun studying Thaumaturgy and improving her goldsmithing skills. She was off making something for their residence primal slayer at this very moment. All she did, and how she grew; and here he was, struggling to read books made for young ones. And that she still saw fit to invest so much into him.

_What did I ever do to deserve this? Nothing. I don’t._ His thoughts darken and he glares at the open tome spread on the table before him, one of the pages stained in the corner with jet black ink. Before he can move to slam it shut, it is snatched up before his eyes and N’ailah begins reading the title. 

“ _’The History of Rhalgar and the Sphe’_ \- ah, _‘the Splitting’_ ’. It any good?”

“It’s long,” Arenvald answers curtly, still trapped in his negative thoughts. “J’abari wants me to read the first chapter, practice writing all the words I have trouble reading, then write what they mean. Oh, and use them in a sentence as well.”

“I don’t envy you, ye,” N’ailah smiles sympathetically. “My teacher wasn’t half as strict as our Little Tau. Probably cause he was busy knocking drunk sods’ heads after too many.”

“Probably shouldn’t call her that to her face - she doesn’t like it. You have trouble reading as well?”

“Eorzean letters a bit. Had to study more when I got here. Don’t want to sign into something you can’t read, ye.”

“Think I’ve heard that somewhere before,” he mumbles into his hand while catching another yawn. “Well, good to see you back to your normal self. Everyone was worried you’d abandon us after what happened with Ifrit, what with you acting so weird after.”

She meets his gaze and for a second he thinks he sees a flash of pain in them, but it’s swiftly replaced with pure aplomb. 

“Just needed a break, ye; a change of scenery. Learn some new things.” 

Arenvald is about to interrogate her further when a pair of light footsteps makes their heads turn towards the open doors. J’abari comes into the storage room, inspecting something in her heavy gloves with a pleased sigh. She sees the two and makes her way over, holding out her hand to N’ailah. 

“Here you go,” the girl says with a smile. “One pair of fluorite earrings! I’m sorry if they don’t quite suit your style. I may have used them to experiment with cuts to appeal to more...high-cla... Anyway! Thanks again for getting the materials; I don’t have to charge you that way. Though I’m surprised you know so much about mining.”

“I don’t.” N’ailah inspects the jewels on the chain, clearly satisfied. “I know a guy who knows rocks and likes fish.”

“I see,” J’abari answers with half interest. Her task done, her attention shifts to her student. “How’s it going?”

“Great.” The boy realizes immediately that he answered too fast, J’abari’s red eyes narrowing into a frown and her arms fly to cross in front of her. 

“You were sleeping again.” Even N’ailah, slayer of Ifrit, freezes at her tone.

“No, I wasn’t! Look!” He rushes his to own defense, leaning out to snatch the book back from N’ailah, her amused expression only growing at the antics. “I’ve already gotten through most of the chapter, and written out new words in sentences, just like you told me.”

His teacher bends next to him to review his notes. The boy tenses as her face sits mere ilms from his, her frown only relaxing slightly as she meets his gaze. 

“Aye, that you did. But your handwriting is nigh illegible, and we already went over at least three of these words last week.”

“By Rhalgar, this woman,” Arenvald grumbles. “Why are you so smart anyway?”

J’abari gives a side eye as N’ailah snickers, then turns her attention back to the boy in the chair. “Because it’s important. My brothers fought, something I wasn’t capable of. So instead, I learned to heal their hurts and make accessories to give them strength. And to do that, I needed to read.”

“Well I’ll leave you two to it,” N’ailah breaks the silence as she to the exit. “No more falling asleep, ye!”

“You did!” J’abari screeches, whipping around to Arenvald. He rises from his seat in panic, knocking it to the ground with a clank.

“N’ailah!”

The two turn only to find a puff of smoke where the instigator of the chaos had been standing a moment before. Shocked, they turn towards the laughter at the door, where she stands in triumph. 

“I’m catching on!”

“How did you-” J’abari asks, mouth agape. 

“Learning some new tricks from some eastern people. Shinobi, they call themselves. Heading back to Vylbrand to study more now. You kids take care!” She gives an animated wave goodbye before dashing to the door.

“Gods, seeing her you’d never think she was such a fighter. Speaking of, how’s your training?”

Arenvald doesn’t answer as he picks up his chair, setting back to the table and leaning over the book before him. J’abari frowns at his lack of acknowledgement.

“Arenvald,” she repeats.

“What,” he snaps his head up to glower at her through his pale locks and face paint. “You’ve been here, you know how it is! I can still barely hold a sword and shield right or read a book for a child. And last time he was here, Thancred said my fighting was ‘fit to stop a drunk nutkin, possibly’. In those words!”

He snatches the book from the table, glowering and hand shaking. “Bugger it all! I’ll never be able to fight, and I’ll never be able to read these _damn_ letters! It’s hopeless!”’

With his last word he tosses the tome into the air. And before it can fly to the ceiling, it’s caught by the blonde Miqo’te and swiftly returned to the table with a slam worthy of Rhalgar.

“No don’t _bugger_ it!” J’abari yells at him. “These things take time! And I understand, it’s hard. But you won’t improve if you quit whenever you get frustrated. Giving up is worthless, especially when you have so much gain. Be more confident in yourself!”

“And pray do so a bit more quietly.”

They jump at the unknown voice joining into their conversation, turning to see Urianger sorting books in the corner.

“I take my leave,” he closes with a bow, striding out of the room in long strides that are deceptively slow.

“Rhalgar give me strength, I didn’t even know he was in here,” the girl whispers once the elezen is safely out of earshot. “I never know what to expect with that man.”

“Aye, well you’re one to talk, J’abari. Tiny as you are and so unassertive. Yet you become a console truly different person during our lessons. You’re a mighty strict teacher, you know that?”

She giggles. “I had plenty of my own. ‘Giving up is death to a man’ my father always said. No truer words were needed in our home. There was danger around every corner, and the moment one became too comfortable could be the end.”

“Where are you from?”

“Pearl Island, just south of Gridania and Ala Mhigo. They raise couerls there; and sometimes hunt the wild ones. You had to always be aware of your surroundings, in case one hungered for more than the local fauna as game.”

Arenvald stares at her a moment before unrolling a piece of parchment then picking up his discarded quill. He dips in gently into the open ink container and brings it to the page. She watches intently as he scribbles words down, silently whispering to himself as he does.

“How’s that,” he asks when done. He sits back with a grin as she picks up the paper, eyes widening at the contents of the parchment.

**Jabari of Pearl Island**. The print was crude but the letters were legible. She turns her wide eyes to look at the young Ala Mhigan and is met with panic. 

“Oh, bugger it. Did I mess up the letters?”

“Wha-, no no! You did very well! Your handwriting is legible -for the most part- and the contents are...just one thing.”

She takes the quill from his hand and adds a dash between the J and a. 

“In Miqo’te names,” she begins, “the first letter is the name of the tribe. So you add the apostrophe - this dash - to separate the tribe letter and the start of the name.”

He ponders in her words a bit, inspecting the parchment. “So your name’s not ‘J’abari’, it’s ‘Abari’, then?”

She nods. “Abari of the J tribe. J’abari.”

“Should I call you Abari?”

She catches herself taking a slight step back, heat rising back into her face.

“I-it, usually only people who you are really, _really_ close with can say your name without the clan letter,” she stumbles, fingers snaking through a strand of hair.

Arenvald cocks his head in confusion then smirks at her. “So we’re not close enough yet then? Alright, I get it. I think...So we’ll just have to get closer until I can call you-”

“J’abari!”

They turn their heads to see Tataru hustling into the room, a small paper in her hand.

“A messenger from the Immortal Flames is come,” she explains excitedly. “With an answer from the Flame General. If you have time this evening, he’d like to meet you for dinner.”

“Now!? I…” _Won’t get another chance for a while, most likely._ “I’ll go get ready!”

The girl goes to groom herself, digging out one of her nicer garments she bought with funds from her growing crafting trade. Tataru calls to her saying to come upstairs once she’s ready. 

Cleaned and dressed, she starts to race towards the stairs, but stops in her tracks and races back to the storage room doors, unable to control her lips from curling up at the boy with his nose in his book.

“Arenvald!” She calls. “I want chapter two finished by the time I come back, along with your list of words and sentences!” She runs out of the basement, stifling a giggle as she hears him lament some curse in Rhalgar’s name.

 

The Fragrant Chamber certainly lived up to its name this evening. The scent of the decadent foods wafted throughout the chamber, and J’abari had to control herself from stuffing everything set before her into her mouth as Raubahn regales her with tales of his time in the Bloodsands from across the wide table.

“And now your son serves with you in the Immortal Flames,” she beams, putting down the goblet of fine wine. It had been a pleasant addition to their meal, fine liquors not being a common sight on her home island. And finally being of an age to drink, she did little to hold herself back.

“Aye. Mayhap one day you’ll be able to meet him,” Raubahn smiles. “At the moment, however, Pipin is on the Ala Mhigan front, gathering intelligence. We can ill afford to ignore the movements of Garlemald.”

“Ala Mhigo,” she mumbles into the cup she had brought back to lips. “Ala Mhigo...mmmmm.” _I should stop drinking this wine._

“Haha, the drink getting to you, lass?” The burly Highlander laughs. “It seems you didn’t inherit your father’s high tolerance for alcohol. Between that and your much quieter nature, it’s hard to see you as his Little Tau sometimes.”

“Good, ‘cause my name’s J’abari,” she snarkily mutters into the wine. 

“Mouth off your cup when you speak, girl! Haha, can’t hear a word you’re saying.”

_Oh gods!_ She swiftly places the cup back on the table with a heavy clank and a splash of red liquid on her hands. Clumsily bumbling with one of the fine napkins, she wipes her hands to the sound of the booming Highlander’s laugh.

“I must thank you again for entertaining me with dinner,” he smiles kindly, the only trace of the former gladiator being the scars that mar his face. “‘Tis not easy to find time for simple pleasures in life these days, with so many woes plaguing the realm.”

“I can only imagine,” she sympathizes, the earlier embarrassment sobering her greatly. “And yet, we all must do our part for a better tomorrow. Or so Minfilia says. That’s why I want to mine and help other do theirs. I just wish I could more.”

“How so?”

“My fighting skills are severely lacking. I have been exploring new fighting techniques, but I haven’t been making as much progress as I’d like,” she explains.

“Well training is a start. But real experience is better. Of course, don’t go running into Halatali unprepared for battle. But knowing how to fight-what you’re fighting for-is key to victory. At least I think so, and I’d like to think I know a few things about battle.”

“’What you’re fighting for’,” J’abari repeats, a light of epiphany appearing in her eyes. “Thank you so much for all your advice, General. This has been a fantastic evening, truly!”

If Arenvald was to learn to fight to protect people, he would need something to protect. As did she - once the liquor left her system.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took a while to get out. I was having trouble deciding where exactly I wanted it to go. But it’s fun to explore my favorite boy’s growth that we don’t get to see in the MSQ.  
> I haven’t been able to find much on Pearl Island, but it seems like a pretty reclusive and harsh place if they raise coeurls there.  
> Anyway, get ready for some shenanigans in the next chapter!


	4. Lessons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Deciding to step up the challenge, Arenvald asks to have a practical training session with Yda and Papalymo.

“The meat must be sa...saute...be sau…”

“ _Sauteed_ ,” J’abari finishes for him, closing the thaumaturgy book in her lap. “This is a new word, unless you are more familiar with culinary terms than I gave you credit for. Now, from the words around it, can you guess what it means?”

“It means something about something,” Arenvald groans, bringing his hand to rake through is pale yellow locks. “Gods if-”

“If you throw the book again, this time I will slam it on your head and not the table.”

He sighs heavily and leans over the table to reread the passages, jotting down notes on an already filled sheet of parchment, heavy breath flaring from his nostrils as he tries not to calm his temper. He did not want to invite the fury of his teacher.

Though there was little chance of that this time; J’abari’s hands were tucked comfortably under her chin and a glowing smile painting her face. 

_He’s come so far_ she thinks, remembering the highly uncomfortable first encounter she had with her now student. His unjustified anger at her father, her own outburst of defiance in defense of him, their awkward reconciliation. It all seemed an age away.

“Mentions a lot about browning the meat thoroughly, but still maintaining the moisture,” his voice sounds, breaking her reminiscences. “So I’m guessing it’s some way to cook meat fully but still keeping the flavor.”

“Yes!” She beams, unable to contain her jubilation as she breaks into applause. The whole of the storage room turns to the sound, and A’aba sounds his own sarcastic kudos to the mix.

“Alright, enough of that,” a flustered Arenvald says, reaching for J’abari’s hands to halt the sound. He closes a gentle fist around them as they came in for another round of clapping, his hand easily encompassing hers. Their hands linger together on the table. The warmth of his palm melts into her as he gently traces one of her knuckles with a calloused finger.

“Your hands are small,” he finally breaks the silence, letting go and bringing his now free hand to run through his hair. “Much better suited for things like writing than mine. Maybe I should just leave it all to you then.”

“You won’t get off that easy,” she weakly chides, bring her still clasped hands into her chest.

“There they are! Perfect!”

They turn towards the cheerful sound as Yda and Papalymo saunter in to the room. The pair of Archons stands next to their table and Yda lifts her hand in a quick greeting.

“Well you two aren’t bickering for a change,” Arenvald says.

“And you two are together as always,” Papalymo retorts. “Some of us enjoy a change of pace at times, if you can believe it.”

“Yeah, Papalymo wasn’t being his usual, overbearing self. Not as much, at least,” Yda adds, causing J’abari to giggle. “Likely because we’ll have to work together during our little sparring session with you two. It’s hard to fight as a team when you’re clawing at each other’s throats, you know.”

“Well said, Yda,” Papalymo compliments. “I trust the two of you will be ready in the coming bells? Meet us at the grounds to the north; the Immortal Flames have agreed to let us borrow them for the time.”

The two young Scions nod and rise from their seats, collecting their belongings silently. And in silence they enter hallway and head to their respective rooms to change into sparring gearing. As J’abari adjusts the thick, red tunic, nervousness comes in a mighty wave. This would be her first time getting practical experience with thaumaturgy, and against an expert such as Papalymo no less. It was exhilarating and nerve wracking in equal measure.

She stands in the cool passageway and waits for her partner to arrive. He soon comes out dressed in heavily worn armor, something they likely dug out from the Scion’s storage but would serve its purpose as training gear. The pair nod at each other and exit the premises, stepping out into the bright afternoon sun. A short walk later and they arrive at the destination. Yda and Papalymo were already there, her doing squats and him arm circles for their respective warm ups.

“Well, let’s not waste time,” the Lalafell says as soon as they arrive. “T’will be a simple match. We shall continue until both members of a team can no longer stand. Agreed?”

They all nod and move to opposite corners of the dirt field.

“I’ll follow your lead,” J’abari calls, drawing her staff and taking her stance behind Arenvald. She hears him mutter some notes to himself before charging at Papalymo. The mage draws his staff closer, his eyebrows lowering in concentration in preparation for the oncoming assault.

“Oh, I don’t think so!” Yda yells as she sprints towards the boy. The sound of her cesti reverberates violently off the shield on Arenvald’s arm, and stumbles back at the impact. His vision is soon consumed by an angry orange as a fire spell engulfs his eyes, though he raises his shield quickly enough to mitigate much of the damage.

But Yda takes the chance to begin a charge towards J’abari. Standing ready, the Miqo’te girl concentrates the chill aether flowing through her body into the hand holding her staff. Taking aim, she shoots the ice spell directly at Yda’s feet, trapping the pugilist in place.

“Ack! It’s so cold!!”

“He’s open!” she yells, focusing the aether in her body once again. She sends it hurtling towards Papalymo and blinks in confusion as she sees him brush the spell off with a counter - wide open. She turns to see Arenvald charging towards the shivering Yda.

“No, Arenvald!” J’abari cries. “Go after Papalymo!”

“Too late.” The Lalafell pulls his arm back to collect aether. J’abari braces for the coming flames, but feels no heat. Instead Papalymo turns his staff towards her gladiator. A flow of silvery aether strikes Arenvald from behind, and his sword and shield fall from his arms and clang on the ground, his body following with a heavy thud.

_A sleep spell!_ She moves to remove the effects from him, only to see Yda sprinting  
her way with her arm drawn back. 

“Sorry, J’abari, but this is going to hurt!” Yda apologizes, raising her fist, then cracking a large smile. “Hey, that rhymed!”

There was barely time to brace herself as J’abari felt the force of Yda’s weapon on her gut, all the wind knocked out of her. She knew the woman even held back for her sake but by Rhalgar; it wasn’t until her body hit the ground that she regained her senses, sure the blow had caused her to black out momentarily. 

She laid there, wheezing through the pain to get oxygen flowing through her again. Her eyes open to the sight of Yda’s red leg guards in her face and Papalymo moving to stand over her still sleeping partner.

“Now you are asleep and your companion is dead. A job well done,” Papalymo compliments with scathing sarcasm.

Yda bends down, extending her hand. “I really am sorry, J’abari- gods, I love that rhyme!” She hauls the young woman up, helping steady her as she continues to try and catch her breath. Papalymo saunters over to them, clearly not pleased.

“Focus, Yda, for _three_ seconds, if you please. As for our aspiring young thaumaturge,” he continues. “Though there is no denying your aetheric capacity and destructive potential, you simply aren’t aggressive enough. You stay in umbral ice far too long to do any significant damage. Don’t be afraid to let loose your fury; and do not fear the _short_ time you will spend in umbral ice. You will have plenty of time to recoup your lost aether - as long as whoever is guarding you does their job properly.”

“He’s still learning,” J’abari winces as she holds her stomach. Gods, Yda was strong.

Arenvald awakens with a pained groan and takes in his surroundings. His expression falls flat as he sees his three training partners standing together, and slams his fist into the dirt with a shout. J’abari shuffles over to him, wincing again as she bends to his level.

“I’m sorry, I-”

“Aren’t an experienced fighter like Yda or Papalymo,” she finishes for him. “I know, me neither. That’s why we lost, and that’s why we’ll keep training, together. To get stronger and to protect each other.” He nods as he stands with her, noting with worry how she held onto her stomach as she rose. The two elder Scions head over their way.

“I’m sorry,” Arenvald says. “I failed...utterly. If you have any advice, I would greatly appreciate it.”

“You are the shield, shield shield!” Papalymo lectures, raising a finger that barely reached past the boy’s knee. But Arenvald’s reactionary flinch left J’abari in giggles that transformed into a groan as the pain in her stomach reminded her, painfully, of her own failings during their match.

“Your utmost priority is to protect your partner and mitigate any immediate threats to them. Yda was securely incarcerated, so there was no reason for you to attack her. In a battle always go after the spell casters first. They are the most dangerous but also the most easily subdued. And like J’abari, you too aren’t aggressive enough. You must keep constant pressure on the enemy, drawing away their attention so that your companions can do what they do best. Do not shirk for even a moment, because if you do, it will be the end!”

Arenvald casts his eyes down, taking a moment to collect himself. “I understand. I’ll do better next time, I promise.”

“Good. Because in a real fight, there very likely will not be a next time.”

“Oh, don’t be such a downer, Papalymo,” Yda chimes in. “It was their first spar and they did...not terrible! At any rate, you could see the dedication that Arenvald fought with, maybe because of who he was supposed to be protecting!”

The boy sputters a protest as the masked pugilist turns to J’abari. “Though J’abari, might I suggest doing a bit more exercise? Your belly felt a bit ‘squishy’ when I punched it, if you will. Might want to gain some more muscles, even if you are far from the fight!”

The young Miqo’te lets out a short whimper and holds her stomach tighter, embarrassed by the observation. “Okay..”

“A downer indeed,” Papalymo sighs. “Let us return to the Waking Sands and give our squishy Miqo’te some time to recover.”

The archons set off, resuming their bickering over some minor infrackment Yda made on a previous mission. Arenvald starts to walk after them before turning to spy J’abari shuffling her feet.

“You alright?” he asks once he’s next to her side.

“I’m fi- “ J’abari begins, but stops once she looks up to her companion. Instead, her eyes begin to well and she casts her gaze at the pathway. “It really hurts. I did a short spell to lessen the pain but...it still really hurts.The pain would be bad enough,but then...seven hells, then she called me _squishy_!”

“A-aye, that she did,” Arenvald replies uncomfortably. “Well, if it makes you feel better, I like you even you are.”

“It doesn’t!” J’abari snaps, red eyes on fire. But she instantly regrets it as Arenvald flinches back. 

“I’m sorry...I have a bad of losing my temper when things don’t go as planned, or when I can’t do what’s expected of me. One of the few traits I inherited from my father…”

“Well it’s like you always tell me, instructor,” he starts. He bends in front of J’abari and gives a quick nod, securing her legs once he feels her arms wrap around his neck. As she rests her head on his shoulder, he turns his gaze ahead in an attempt to hide the creeping red on his cheeks.

“We all have stuff we’re good at, and stuff we need to work on. You’ve got the smarts, and I’ve got the muscle. It’s been a pretty uneven trade, what with you teaching me for nothing. So it’s the least I can do to help you get rid of whatever squishy parts what need toughening up.”

Arenvald laughs as J’abari raises a hand to gently pinch his cheek.

“When did we did get so cheeky, ey?” She quips, looking at the setting sun over the waters of the Rhotano. With a comfortable sigh she rests against the cool armor and smiles.

“Guess that’s the teacher’s rights I’ve been taking for granted. Aye, I’ll take your lessons, Instructor Arenvald. I have high expectations.”

“As do I, pupil.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to come out! Writing fight scenes is hard, plus trying to time it with everything going on in my other series as well. And beginnings are not my forte. But as things start to pick up, hoping to push out chapters with more frequency!


	5. A New Mission

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> J’abari and Arenvald are both assigned new missions.

J’abari clenches her eyes shut in frustration, anger, exertion. She couldn’t say which feeling was dominating her mind. Or whether her actions were just an attempt to block out Arenvald’s harsh yelling in her ears through her eyes. Somehow. 

“Forty seven! C’mon, I’ve seen younglings who can do better!” He jeers. “You really think you can fight Yda and Papalymo, let alone some godsdamned primal, without being able to do fifty bloody push-ups!?”

She growls at him wordlessly as she turns her head to glare as well. He’s kneeling next to her, hempen tunic taut against his torso and training trousers straining against his thick legs. If it wasn’t for the displeased look he was giving her through through his sandy bangs, her heart may have fluttered. Instead her arms quivered as they took her body to the ground, fingers clawing into the dirt of Vesper Bay’s rocky coastline. And with effort they raise her back up.

“Forty eight! Seven hells, Tau, FASTER! Give me two more!”

_Stop barking at me!_ As she shouts the words in her mind, all that escapes her lips is a heavy groan. The rage gave her enough force to carry her leaden body up and down once more. She pauses at the top, gasping for enough air to get her through one more. _Just one more!_

Through a heavy grunt she does it. Her arms buckle as soon as she rises back up and collapse from underneath her. With a thump her body hits the ground, sending a wave a dust in all directions. So tired she hardly registers the dirt entering her mouth as she inhales hungrily.

“Alright, still not great, but it’s progress. On your feet.” Limbs still trembling, she stumbles to her feet and takes deep breaths through her nose.

“Looks like you’re getting started already. Ten minutes of breathing exercises.”

“But can’t I-“

“No,” he cuts her off. “This is your break.”

It was an attempted parley based on futility; she knew his answer before she asked. 

“Ugh...by Rhalgar,” she mumbles under her breath and widens her stance. Eyes closed, her arms rise and fall in sync with her still haggard breaths. After a time her inhales and exhales steady and smooth, and lull her into a trance. Her mind begins to run through the mantra she had made for herself. The motivation used to help her through Arenvald’s grueling training sessions in the past weeks.

_To become stronger. To aid those in need. To stand with mine own strength. To become stronger. To aid those in need. To stand-_

_Thump._

The sound coerces her to peak an eye open. Her other eye joins to watch Arenvald rise and fall effortlessly through a series of fast paced push-ups. The muscles in his arms and back tightening and loosening in a well practiced rhythm. He may be clumsy with his letters, but certainly knew how to move his body.

It’s not until the pain in her limbs comes that J’abari realizes she’s stopped breathing, and she rips her eyes away and shuts them tight again. Her focused breaths lull her into a trance. The mantra she created flows through her mind.

_To become stronger. To aid those in need. To stand with mine own strength. To become stronger. To aid those in need. To stand with mine own strength. To become stronger. To aid-_

“Ten minutes are done. _Now_ you can take a break.”

J’abari slowly opens her eyes. Arenvald leans against a rock, wiping his face with a towel. A light coating of sweat dotted his form, causing a small stain to form on the neck of his tunic. 

“That went fast.” When she stands straight she feels revitalized. Strong. She walks to the rock next to her trainer, switching places with her own towel resting on top and dotting her forehead with it before looking out over the ocean.

“Aye, you’re improving. Slowly but surely. Soon those squishy parts will be a thing of the past.” He brings the point home with a poke to her side. J’abari lets out a yelp and glares at the smirking Ala Mhigan. 

“Gods, why would she even choose that word,” J’abari mumbles into the towel, still miffed at Yda from the event weeks prior. “She could have chosen anything else, but _squishy_?”

“Well don’t you sound motivated,” he says with a light rap to her thigh. “Must mean you’re ready to get back to work! We’re doing the same set again, but adding on. 15 extra squats per set, 10 extra push-ups per set, but still ten minutes of breathing.”

She rises from her resting rock with a sigh and walks to coast overlooking the sea, taking a moment to breathe in the salty air and closing her eyes. When she opens them again, she turns to smile as Arenvald busies himself with a book he brought along to pass the time.

“Arenvald.”

The boy raises his eyes, ready to refute whatever comprise she thought to form to escape her training.

“Thank you,” she smiles. And drops into her first set of hellish squats.

 

And so the weeks continued without interruption-almost. Training, sparring, reading, crafting. Yda and Papalymo continued to push J’abari and Arenvald to their limits, but progress was being made. N’ailah even returned once to throw a wrench into their scheduled dances. The woman had always been quick footed; but her lessons with the ‘shinobi’ made her nigh untouchable.

All was going well until an unexpected visitor came by the Waking Sands. And in the following days bad news would soon follow. J’abari then found herself in the solar, surrounded by the Archons. Just like her first visit that felt an age ago.

“Thank you for coming, J’abari,” Minfilia smiles warmly. “Yda and Papalymo tell me you and Arenvald’s training has been continuing apace. Even with interruptions from our...unexpected guest.”

“Aye, Noroxia’s arrival was a pleasant surprise,” J’abari says. “But it seems like she’s been adjusting well to life at the Waking Sands. If only I could spend more time with her.”

“Your training takes priority over all else.” Papalymo speaks. “You still have much to learn; and unfortunately now, no more time to do so.”

“Indeed,” Minfilia adds, her expression darkening. “Sadly it is for this very reason that I have called you here today. The Maelstrom has confirmed that the kobolds have summoned Titan.”

The silence is deafening. All the archons faces’ harden, and Minfilia turns to J’abari with an apologetic expression. The young Miqo’te can’t stop herself from grabbing and twirling one of her blonde locks.

“I would not have a repeat with the incident with Ifrit,” Minfilia explains. “N’ailah forwent tempering thanks to the Echo; and with her skill at arms was fortunate to escape with her life. But the men who went with her...I need not tell you their fate. I would not sacrifice any more numbers than is necessary. But we know precious little about Titan, and I fear N’ailah’s strength alone may not suffice. Thus-though I am loathe to do so-I would ask that you go and provide her whatever aid you can.”

J’abari’s stomach dropped at the words. _It’s come._ The chance to prove her strength. To aid those in need. If only she was ready.

“I-I, understand,” she mutters. “But I can’t...my training i-is still quite-” _Rhalgar give me strength._ “But I will fight. I might not be able to...but I will still fight.”

“You needn’t worry yourself so,” Y’shtola’s cool voice calls. And with a gentle hand on her shoulder, J’abari realizes how she had been shaking. “No one expects you to lead the charge. Your role will be to assist N’ailah in whatever way you can. Heal her hurts that she may continue the fight, and add your own magicks to the fray if you chance an opening.”

“Besides, you’ve been improving a lot!” Yda chimes in. “You and Arenvald have already beaten me and Papalymo once. And you’re looking much less squishy than before. You’ll do great, J’abari!”

“Again with the squishy,” J’abari smiles wryly. “Thank you, Yda. I won’t let you all down, I promise.”

“As capable as our young flower is, it would be remiss to send her off to Limsa Lominsa without Y’shtola, would it not,” Thancred suggests, shooting a lethargic smile to her. Minfilia turns to the white-haired Miqo’te.

“May I ask that of you?”

“I never thought it in question. Make your preparations, J’abari. I shall contact our intrepid southern rogue of our coming.” She nods and watches as Y’shtola strides out of the solar, visually unaffected by the gravity of their new mission.

J’abari doesn’t move, her leaden legs keeping her firmly rooted. Her mind racing through every situation. How strong was Titan? Where would the battle be? How would she and N’ailah fight together? What was Limsa Lominsa like, with all its pirates? Would she like the food? _Oh gods._ What about Noraxia?

“You should know that Noraxia will be well taken care of in your absence.” It was as if Minfilia had read her thoughts. “In fact before our meeting, I assigned Arenvald to the task of guarding our guest. Being blessed with the Echo as he is, I thought him the most qualified for the task.”

His first mission. She could fly at the words.

“He’ll do a great job!” J’abari beams. “And I’m sure he’s excited to be able to help. If only we had the time to celebrate.”

“Alas,” the Antecedent apologetically smiles. “But there will be time plenty when you return. I shall pray for you and N’ailah’s success. May the Crystal guide you back home to us once more.”

J’abari leaves the solar and stands in the hall a moment. Yda and Papalymo bickering. Thancred resting on a bench. Urianger lecturing some half asleep victims. She took it all in.

She leaves to gather some clothes and gear, then hustles to the storage room to inform her friends of her departure. She searches the area for Noraxia, but can find no trace of the beastmen. 

“There’s our little kitty.”

It was A’aba, waving at her in good spirits. 

“You heard the news about Arenvald’s first mission?” He smirks. “Chosen by the Antecedent as the sylph’s bodyguard! What an honor!”

“I did. I’m sure he’s excited.”

“He just went to buy some supplies for himself,” Aulie explains, unable to hide her own smile.

“Good timing too, cause we wanted to discuss something.” A’aba rises to stand tall, stretching his lean, muscled form. “His dusty rags aren’t going to cut it anymore. So me an Aulie were thinking to buy the boy a nice suit of silver armor, the kind the Sultansworn wear. We split the cost evenly and surprise him. Not bad, eh? You in?”

“Oh course!” J’abari swiftly dips into her bag and pulls out her coin purse. She pours some gil into A’aba’s hand. “This should be enough for a good shield and part of the cost for a sword too. I wish I could give you more, but I have to be off to Limsa soon, and this is all I have on me.”

“Heh, this’ll do nicely,” the male Miqo’te smiles teasingly. “Dropping more gil than most likely see in their savings. Must be nice having a profitable professions.”

J’abari blushes a bit but nods in agreement. The Ul’dahns could be many things, but stingy on  
sparkling jewelry was not one of them. She chats with the two a bit more before continuing her search for Noraxia. She walks over to where the sylph should have been, but cannot find the leafy beastman anywhere.

“Teehee,” a familiar giggle sounds. “This one’s disguise has tricked friendly one! Then this one will no longer be stared at by these ones either.”

J’abari jumps at the oddly clad hyur standing on a box. Face painted and bottoms less, such an  
artful transformation could only be the result of the creative magics of a sylph.

“Noroxia,” J’abari calls tentatively. “That is...a most creative transformation you have there. You  
already introduced yourself to Arenvald, yes? He’s to be your bodyguard.”

“Do you mean strong one? Yes, this one has met strong one. Strong one was very nervous, but  
promised to protect this one with their life. Is strong one a friend of friendly one?”

“A very dear one,” she says quietly, before raising a stern gaze. “So please be sure to avoid playing too many tricks on him...and all of these ones, alright?”

“This one cannot make any promises,” Noroxia sings. “But this one will do this one’s best to be a  
good guest.”

“Thank you.” J’abari gives her friend a wave before going back to pick up her things. As she’s leaving, Arenvald comes racing through, a bag of items flung over his shoulder. His nervous expression changes to a wide smile as they draw closer to each other.

“J’abari, have you heard!?” His wide-eyed expression makes her beam. “I’ve been chosen to  
serve as Noroxia’s bodyguard!”

“I did. Congratulations! You’re first official mission,” she claps quietly.

“Aye, it’s exciting, and...equally intimidating,” he says, rubbing his neck. “But I won’t fail. I won’t fail you most of all!”

“Me?” She asks, cocking her head in confusion.

“I know how hard you of all people worked to endear us to the sylphs. I swear to you that I will  
guard our honored guest with my life, and not allow your efforts to come to naught.”

“Just no heroics, okay,” she gently reminds him with a gentle hand on his arm. “Hopefully I won’t be gone long. Just try to keep Noraxia out of trouble, difficult though it may be.”

“‘No heroics’, eh?” His giant hand engulfs her head to ruffle her hair. “I’m not the one going off to fight a primal. Aye, Yda told me just as I came in. But N’ailah will be there, so I’m not worried about you.”

“Truly?” she questions. “Not even a bit? You wound me!”

“...Maybe a bit,” he confesses. “Be safe. Come back in one piece...I’ll miss you. Promise you’ll br safe-as possible, at least. And don’t skip any training!”

“I will.” She smiles. Without warning she dives into his chest and wraps her arms as tightly around his colossal form as they will reach. She sighs into him as he returns the gesture, his own arms easily encompassing her. When they pull apart they gaze at each other with bated breath.

“See you soon!” She grabs her things and quickly dashes out. Any longer and she wouldn’t be able to leave. She passes through the double doors and pauses to risk one last glance into the store room.

“Strong one!”

“A-aye! What’s happened!?”

Noraxia dances up to a startled Arenvald and the two begin an animated back and forth. 

She smiled. She would be back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, finally got to the point where the stories for this series and my other one, Ode to Eorzea, have converged. I’ll be continuing to work on both at the same time, since they follow the timeline together and there will be points where N’ailah and J’abari appear in each other’s stories. It’s slower going than I’d like, but that’s life. 
> 
> Anyway, J’abari and Arenvald are finally starting to get the hints about each other’s feelings, and the slow burn should finally build enough to light a candle soon. Stay tuned for more to come!


	6. Worthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Still mourning the loss of their comrades, J’abari assures Arenvald of his right to life.

J’abari wipes the pooling sweat from her brow with the sleeve of her weathered tunic while gazing absently at the dull tombstone before her. Whoever had been buried here, their name was washed from the rocks, left only in the memories of whoever they had left behind. 

_Just like them,_ she muses solemnly. Some few days had passed since the attack -the massacre- at the Waking Sands. And she thanked Rhalgar everyday for passing at least a sliver of his strength to N’ailah. 

While J’abari was weighed to the floor of their headquarters in a pool of tears and vomit, her raven and golden-haired companion set them on their path. She had ran through the halls, inspecting the faces to find survivors. She saw Noraxia’s last moments, and the vision of the Garlean’s attack. She even carried Arenvald all the way here to Eastern Thanalan. 

Quickly shaking her head to clear her mind, she returns to her task. Reaching back down to the crusty grass, she grips the healthy weed at the root. With a hefty tug the invasive flora is pulled out and flings dirt everywhere.

“There.”

“Ah, I see you’ve just finished.”

A man garbed in a heavy, dark robe walks over to her with a basket full of the same weeds. J’abari discards her own in the basket next to her side and stands up to smile at the reserved, cloaked man gazing at her with cool, blue eyes.

“Aye. This was the last one.” She rises, knees dusty. “Was there anything else that needs to be done?”

“No, this was plenty,” he smiles from under his hood. “I can’t thank you enough for helping me with these cumbersome tasks. Especially after you fought off those strange Garlean attackers this morning.”

“It’s the least I could do. Everyone’s been so kind.”

“To me as well,” he muses. “You’ll be sure to take tomorrow to rest, won’t you? After having been through so much and done so many tasks for us you must be exhausted. Not to mention taking care of your friend.” 

“I will,” J’abari promises. Marques shuffles his basket and turns towards the church, and J’abari watches his broad back against the ever setting sun with intrigue. 

Like her, Marques had been a victim of circumstance. A victim of Carteneau with no memory of his past or even his name. And like her, the Church of Saint Adama welcomed him with open arms. With the truth of his past and name lost to him, he did the only possible thing he could: assist the people who showed him such kindness. The only sure things was that he was good with technology. And that whoever he was, the Garleans wanted him. 

Moments later they reach the church. She inhales the cool, dank air as Marques opens the heavy wood door and bats her eyes to adjust to the candlelit room. The relief of the air is quickly replaced with exasperation as she spies a different pair of broad shoulders kneeling before the altar.

“Gods, Arenvald,” she cries. “You shouldn’t be out of bed yet! You still need to rest.”

She hustles over to his side, crouching to his level, fussing at the beads of feverish sweat dotting his face.

“I’m not so weak that I can’t say a prayer for my…” His words fade as he falls into a fits of coughing. J’abari tries to grab his arm and keep him from falling over. But the weight is too much for her to bear and she begins to topple over. 

“Easy there,” a gentle voice sounds from behind. Marques grabs Arenvald by the shoulders and hauls the young man up. Pulling his arm over his shoulder he guides Arenvald back to the back room, J’abari following at their heels.

Marques guides the young Scion back to his room in the back of the church. The setting sunlight strew through the window, illuminating the tiny box with a golden glow. J’abari helps to lay Arenvald back down and takes the time to change his bandages. The large gash on the right side of his chest still wasn’t completely closed; it had been a rough ride from Western Thanalan. And N’ailah could only be so gentle bearing the weight of someone nearly twice her size. 

She fusses about applying salve to the wound, and using a quick spell to ease the pain. She doesn’t even notice Marques return until he holds a cup of water next to her face. J’abari gives him a wordless thank you and brings the cup to Arenvald’s lips.

“I’m sorry,” he moans after taking a sip. He brings a heavy arm to fling over his head. “I’m just a burden to everyone. They should’ve just saved themselves, but they saved me. And I’m just a failure. I should have-”

“Stop,” she cuts him off sharply. At the same time her hands moved to instinctively clutch at his forearm. He squints at her from under his arm. Her mouth opens. She needs to say something, _anything_ , to assure him that his thoughts weren’t true. 

“You need to rest,” is all she says as she rises from the seat next to the bed. “Sleep.”

Without another word she turns the corner to the room next door she shared with N’ailah. She sighs as she looks at the emptiness, missing the company of her companion. But the bodies needed to be removed from the Waking Sands and brought to the church. And N’ailah was the only one with the stomach for the task.

So she silently sheds the dusty work gear she was wearing and quickly wipes her body down. When finished she changes into the sleeping gown provided by the church, takes her small Thaumaturge's scepter in hand and heads back into the sanctuary.

The door suddenly flies open and J’abari jumps at the creaking, getting into battle stance. The days had done little to quell her nerves. And with the excitement of Garlean presence this morning she was more than a little on edge.

“What, you gonna blow me up?” N’ailah laughs sarcastically as she strides into the church. The sound of her boots echoes throughout the small room with a ripple of quiet laughter from the onlookers. From all except J’abari, who sighs in exasperation and heads to the open door.

“I may have,” she says as she shuts out the moonlight. “We had an attack this morning. Some Garleans were sneaking around, apparently looking to attack Marques.”

“Anybody hurt?” N’ailah spins around, her ocean-eyes serious in an instant.

“No, thankfully.” J’abari watches as the raven and golden-haired Miqo’te plops down on a seat. Her stomach churns at the rust read stains on the older woman’s toadskin jacket and bottoms.

“Were you able to...clean it up?”

“Ah?” N’ailah leans back, arms stretching over the back of the pew. “Ah, it’s all good, ye. Still a little messy inside but...everyone’s on their way.” She exhales heavily, closing her eyes. J’abari runs to the back room and grabs a cup of a Aqua del Sol, bring it to the exhausted rogue turned ‘shinobi’. 

“Here.” J’abari offers her the drink quietly, and catches the infectious smile sent her way. N’ailah gulps it down and places the cup next her. She stares at her bag next to it for a moment. 

“Almost forgot, I found this on A’aba.He had a lot of money. Didn’t seem right to leave it for the grave robbers, so you should give it to Arenvald. How’s he doing anyway?”

_The money for his armor…_ J’abari muses solemnly. She squeezes the pouch close to her chest, deciding to hold on to it for now. 

“Still recuperating. He should recover fine, but he won’t rest properly. It’s like he feels like he has to prove something...”

“Yeah, I bet,” N’ailah mumbles, before smirking. “Want me to beat him up so he stays in bed?”

“N’ailah!”

The older Miqo’te laughs. “It’s a joke, ye!”

“Well it’s not funny!” J’abari barks. “The Scions have been all but obliterated, Arenvald’s hurt, and the best you can offer is a joke!?” The sound of of her muted outburst silences the room. Priests file out quickly, and J’abari’s stomach drops and face burns.

_Shite! I did it again…_ She slowly looks to N’ailah, expecting a hardened expression similar to the one she wore when she defeated Titan. Instead she’s greeted with calm. Kindness. And hidden exhaustion.

“I know the feeling,” N’ailah answers quietly. “I just had to clean a shit ton of bodies off the floor. Minfilia and the others are gone. Things are looking pretty bad, ye?”

She rises and pulls J’abari into her chest, saying her next words into the Ala Mhigan’s golden hair.

“But we gotta stay on the path. We gotta be the ones to pull through or things’ll never get better. I know I can’t do it alone. None of us can. So we gotta help each other out, ye? And I think it’s easier with a smile.”

J’abari wraps her arms around N’ailah’s lean frame and buries her face in her jacket. The smell of leather and old blood risks usurping her senses, but she bears it. Deciding to share the burden with her friend.

“Okay,” she finally answers, pulling away with determination in her crimson eyes. But it’s quickly lost as she glances to the floor. “Although I don’t know what I could ever do for you. You’re so strong, quick. I just cried. My stomach churns just thinking about the bodies…I don’t know how to how to help you.”

“It’s okay,” N’ailah pats her hair. “You’ll figure it out soon, ye?”

“Soon’s not good enough,”J’abari closes her eyes, squeezing the pouch of gil. “I don’t know what to do...Do you pray?”

The older Miqo’te tilts her head. “No?”

J’abari giggles at the action. “I guess you don’t need the gods in ‘far to the south’? I understand, we didn’t pray much in my family either. Only when we were truly lost. I hope they’re kind enough to answer once more.” 

She moves to the altar and gets on her knees. She closes her eyes. She bows her head. And she reaches out to Azeyma to shine a light on the path she needs to walk. And she reaches out to Rhalgar to give her the strength to follow her path to the end.

Then for the second time that night, she jumps to the sound of the opening door, and watches as a young white-haired elezen strolls cockily into the church. 

“Ah, I see you have arrived earlier than me for once,” the child snarkily addresses N’ailah. _A boy?_ “So glad you could be early when it matters the least.”

“You got somethin’ you want to say, eh?” N’ailah challenges. He ignores her and heads straight towards the altar.

“And you must be J’abari. Thank you for your service to the Scions. I am Alphinaud Levieur, a Scion like you, though our paths tend to take us in different directions. As much as I would love for you to regale me with tales of your extended venture to Limsa Lominsa, I have urgent business to attend to.”

Before she can get a word off the boy had directed his attention to Marques. With confidence and eloquence well beyond his years -and he was certainly younger than J’abari- he revealed that the amnesic man was none other than Cid Garland, famed engineer and thought to be lost to the Calamity. 

His tale took a darker turn when he revealed that the ixal had summoned Garuda, and that they would need Cid’s airship to enter her domain. Soon after Marques took to the back to collect his things. 

“N’ailah, a word outside, if you would be so kind.”

He leads the way out into the chill desert air, and J’abari simply watches as the door closes behind them. 

“Ah,” Father Iliud sighs as he stands next to the young Miqo’te. “Your friend never stops moving. And the journey of the one they intend will not be easy. Will she be alright?”

“N’ailah’s far stronger than I am,” she wryly smiles as the sound of raised voices wafts through the wood walls. “Whatever challenges are sent her way, it seems Rhalgar saw fit to give her more than enough strength to see them through. If only I had been given a sliver of said grace.”

“Your time will come, child,” the priest kindly consoles her. He gently squeezes her shoulder and smiles. “Might is not the only form of strength. And some may have need of whatever you can offer, even now.”

They both turn as Marques- Cid- returns, revealing the extent of his muscular form in an open tunic and heavy black pants. The Father gives him some words of parting, and J’abari simply watches. Wishing she could help, that she what the strength that wasn’t might could possibly be. Soon after N’ailah and Alphinaud return inside, whatever argument they had had now resolved. 

“Looks like it’s gonna be another long journey,” the rogue shrugs. “Gotta go find this airship, then figure out how to get to Garuda, then go fight Garuda. It never ends.”

“If any was strong enough to see this through, it’s you. May you...walk in the light of the Crystal.”

“Well who needs Minfilia when I got you!” N’ailah nudges her forehead with a gentle fist. “Not sure when we’ll be back, ye? Take care of things for me.” She smiles and waves. J’abari nods and watches them go. Father Iliud smiles and moves to back room to sleep. J’abari gives a last glance to the altar before following suit.

Back in her room she ties up her hair into a messy bun. She pulls back the covers of her bed and stops. And moments later she’s gently knocking on Arenvald’s door. He answers with a quiet grunt, and she slowly creeps it open. He’s sitting up on his bed, staring out into the moonlight and dressed in a loose tunic.

“Was that N’ailah and Alphinaud?”

“You should be laying down,” she sighs against the doorframe. In a moment she’s next to the bedside. “It was. They left with Marq- Cid, to go find an airship and fight Garuda.”

“Off to fight another primal? You should have gone with them, not stay behind to take care of me. Gods, I’m useless…”

She stares at him through the dark a moment. _Easier with a smile._ She bends and gives a light poke to his chest, smiling a bit as he flinches at the contact. 

“Did that hurt?”

“No…?”

“Good! You’re healing faster than I thought then.” She dashes out of the room quickly and returns with a pillow in hand. “Can I join you?”

“Eh!?”

She laughs quietly as he scrambles further against the wall. He balks at J’abari fluffing the chocobo feather pillows. Once finished, she places his close to his side of the wall, and lays her own next to it. Getting comfortable, she curls into a tight ball and smiles at him, grateful for the dark masking the growing warmth in her cheeks. 

“Thank you,” she hums. “I’d been sharing a room with N’ailah these past few days and now that she’s gone…”

Her words trail off. Staring at the bandage still visible from the shoulder of his tunic. Her eyes move up to his, still bright in the dark. 

“You’re scared to sleep alone?” He asks. 

“Aye,” she sits up to his level. “I’m still afraid. N’ailah even said I had nightmares; and she was always there to comfort me. But now she’s gone. Will you do that in her place?”

Arenvald’s brow furrows at the request.

“You’re not that big, move over,” he sighs. They shuffle a bit until he’s laying on his back, arm draped over her shoulders as the other pillows his neck. “Why did you stay behind? Alphinaud and N’ailah need you, _deserve_ -”

“Enough!” She sits up again to glare down at his surprised face. “My father, whenever one of my brothers got hurt on the hunt, would always be sure to tell them the mistakes they made. But do you know what he would do before that?”

He shakes his head no. “He told them how glad he was that they were safe,” she explains gently. “How happy he was that they were alive. Because before their worth as fighters, he loved them as his children, as people. And it hurts seeing you so...guilt-ridden for simply living. A’aba and Aulie didn’t sacrifice themselves because they thought your life was more valuable than anyone else's; they did it because they love you. And that’s enough.”

As she gazes down at him, Arenvald’s eyes had started to well over. He quickly wipes them away, bringing his hand up to sweep a loose strand from her face.

“Yeah, maybe. Giving up is death to a man after all, isn’t it,” he smiles. His hand moves to encircle her neck. With a beaming face she lays back down next to him. 

“Thank you, J’abari. For always believing in me, being there for me. I’ll prove to you that it’s not for naught. Though perhaps I should be thanking your father. As much as you say you’re here to get away from his legacy, you sure do take a lot of his wisdom.”

“I…” Her eyes widen at the observation, hand reaching for hair it couldn’t grasp. “Maybe so. I love my father, of course but...it’s complicated.”

“Want to talk about it?” She nods, returning to her position next to Arenvald. Their eyes meet and she begins her tale.

“My name. I think I can count on both hands the number of times he says it in a year. And whenever he did he looked _pained_. It was never a problem with my brothers but to him I was always ‘girl’ or ‘Little Tau’ or ‘my daughter’. I guess...I just want him to be proud of name he gave me, not full of regret or whatever he feels.”

She sighs sleepily, Arenvald’s massage making her eyes heavy.

“It’s hard to escape the legacy of our parents,” Arenvald muses. “My Garlean...heritage. And the scar my mother gave me for fear of it. Those are things I’ll never be able to escape. Maybe that’s why I froze when I faced them, afraid to face what I could, may, be.”

“It’s hard,” she mumbles. “But you lived, Thank the twelve. And we’ll carry on to fight another day. N’ailah told me…”

“It’s easier with a smile.” They say in unison, chuckling after.

“Might be easier to deal with them once we’ve gotten some sleep too,” Arenvald yawns. “We’ll face them in the morning.”

J’abari mutters what she thinks is a word of agreement. But the world goes blank before she’s sure they left her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My own interpretation of how Arenvald handled the aftermath of the massacre. Cause in-game they say he was there for the massacre, but not much was said about what actually happened with him after. So this is what he did! A little less romance this chapter but they’re going strong, believe you me. And little by little they’re both starting to grow into their own, and J’abari’s starting to come to terms with her heritage (I wanna be in the Stormblood parts already but character growth ><)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed it. As always, comments and feedback are welcome~


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